Gemotions

The air crackled with a silent fury. John had discovered the manuscript hidden under the mattress. Every page was a wound, each word a barb. He stood rigid, as though frozen in place, his hands clenched into fists. He had to stop himself from tearing it to shreds.

His breath came in short, shallow gasps. He imagined the scene: his partner, hunched over the computer, crafting these cruel descriptions, weaving these lies. The thought was a fresh stab.

He slowly walked towards the open window, his gaze fixed on the bustling street below. The noise, the lights, the movement – it all seemed distant, irrelevant. He needed to get away, to be alone, to process this betrayal. The air outside felt cold and unwelcoming.